Arthur & Stella

Tuesday
Glasgow
My darling,
We are getting settled down a bit now and spent last night running round the town on Glasgow’s famous trams. As in Aberdeen, the fare is only 1d for servicemen and there are some long runs here. Last night we spent a full hour on a circular route at a cost of 2d – 1d out and 1d return. We hear that there is a route on which you can travel 23 miles! We are going to try to find it later. Glasgow itself is just about as depressing as any other big city with no money to spend, and the quarter where we are resembles in many respects some of the more dismal side-streets off Brownlow Hill. That’s the nearest Liverpool equivalent I can think of. Incidentally, we are told that the hostel we are occupying is a former V.D. hospital! What do you think of that? It’s obviously been a hospital at one time, but has not been used as such for some time now. Still, there’s a laundry here where the Wrens will do normal personal washing – anything except really heavy stuff – for 6d a week. That’s reasonable enough.
The course is not too bad. I think I told you the hours yesterday, but I didn’t mention that we have two good stand-easies – 20 minutes to half an hour each – one in the morning, the other in the afternoon. We are concentrating at the moment on learning touch-typing, said by the instructor to be the most difficult part of the course. We are learning it in the usual style with a mask over the keys and my little finger on my left hand is sore as hell with banging the letter A, which appears in every word in the first lesson. Later we will have to operate machines which punch a perforated tape, exactly the same as the tape used in the ‘Daily Post’ Creed Room. We have to learn to read that tape from the perforations and also another tape on which Morse is represented by wavy lines – an undulator, it is called. Reading the tape is only a matter of practice, for it employs the Morse code in one form or another. Finally, we are apparently expected to be able to send and receive Morse at about 12 words a minute, which should be easy enough, especially as we don’t get any Syko – a combination of letters and figures – which was my chief bugbear at Torry. So far as we can make out at the moment the course is expected to last about 12 weeks, but it was extended twice for the last class who were here so there is no certainty about it.
One good thing is that I should be a pretty hot typist when the war is over, which is always a useful thing in our job. For young fellows it is a fine training for if they take the course seriously and get on as far as they can in this branch, they should be able to pick up jobs in the Post Office, cable companies, and newspaper offices when the war is over. In many ways I think it offers more scope than wireless operator to a young fellow. We are being trained at the Post Office school, which is always a recommendation when looking for a job.
I thought about you a good deal over the weekend and hope things went well. Milly and May will be there today, probably arriving just about now – 1.30. I wonder if they are and if Wendy and Michael are at the bottom of the road waiting for them to get off the bus? Or are you having dinner early? I expect May will, as usual, be in a desperate hurry to get back to Limedale.
Did you see the story of Moscow’s warning to the German people about the second front? The figures of the Allied strength look pretty imposing on paper. I wonder how effectively that strength will be used? Glasgow is a very Communistic city, with notices chalked on the pavements in all parts of the town. They are playing hell about the attitude of the Labour leaders towards the pensioners, and laugh at the Labour members voting against each other. After the war Labour is certainly going to have to pull up its socks. I think that, in any case, they are damned. The International Communist Party may stand a good chance then. Let’s hope we see the end of the Luke Hogan, Simon Mahon crowd in local politics.
Tis now after tea and I’m finishing your letter before doing some washing and trying to mend my shoes. That, together with a good wash and shave, will just about fill up the entire evening. The weekend seems to have been a bit of a hotchpotch, doesn’t it? What with the weather and one thing and another. Do you mean to say Harold took bus and train to go to the Rose for a drink when he was away for the weekend? That’s the best I’ve ever heard. He’s a rum lad alright, still he seems to have done a good thing with the see-saw. In a way I’m jealous of anyone who does anything for the children. It’s silly, I know, and selfish too, but I feel as if I’m being robbed of my rights! Still, I suppose you can’t expect youngsters to wait five or six years for a see-saw and all the other small things kids delight in. Another two years of war and possibly another three of “peaceful” occupation of some war ravaged spot. Then home to compete, at the age of 40, with all the youngsters. What a hot idea.
The explanation about the O/Coder is that, before applying for this course, we had changed our rating to coder. For some reason or other, however, we cannot change our rating on this course until we have completed and passed the course, when we will become signallers, always providing, of course, that I have sufficient grey matter to absorb the sort of thing any nit-wit girl can pick up in no time. Anyway, I’m certainly not going to pull my insides out like I did at Aberdeen. I’ve learned that lesson.
I’m sorry I can’t give you any guarantee about a nice shore station. How would you like to come and see me at Murmansk or Archangel, or perhaps you would prefer Freetown or Colombo? Seriously, love, we have no idea where we are going as there has only been one crowd of fellows on this course before us, at least here, that is.
To return to the visit of Chris and Harold, why didn’t you get Betty Perry to come in while you went with both of them? Or wouldn’t Chris wear that? It’s nice to be missed so much and for places to have such associations of ideas so far as you are concerned, but don’t be silly and stay in just because I’m not there. Very soon the darker nights will be coming and you won’t be able to go out. Get about all you can in the next few weeks, love. That will please me much more than thinking of you fastened to the house. Don’t be jealous of all those other husbands. It may be the last leave a lot of them will get for some time. I’ve got a feeling it won’t be long now and don’t forget we won’t advertise the second front by giving everyone embarkation leave. Bill seems lucky with his leave, but of course he must pay quite a lot of his own fares, which we couldn’t afford to do from places like Aberdeen or Devonport. Where is Bill stationed now, have you heard?
Glad to hear the news of the allotment. So long as the weather isn’t cold, the rain should bring things on well. You’ll have to live on peas for the next few weeks from the sound of things. Never mind, they will make up for the lack of cabbage and other veg. You should get a good crop off those potatoes. Have you heard from Molly about bottling the peas? I expect they will send the special jars with spring tops.
Darling, try to keep your urges under control for the next 12 weeks or so. Otherwise you are going to have sleepless nights, miserable days and, into the bargain, will get jumpy and irritable. I know what it’s like. It seems months since I was home and I, too, have my urges you know, although in view of our arrangement I don’t tell you of them all. You might get too conceited if I did! I don’t know whether my urges are obvious to everyone, but an old man – rather a nasty old man – was trying to thrust a box of evidence into my hand on the way back here to tea! If only I could have found a use for them!
Well, angel girl, I must be off now. I do adore you, my own. Take good care of yourself for you’re the one thing I have in life you know. All my love, precious.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Thursday
Glasgow
Darling,
Although I can’t honestly say I’m feeling more cheerful, I am, thank God, getting more resigned to this position. Quite honestly, if I was at sea or abroad I shouldn’t be half as bad. I think the thing that did me in completely was having that leave granted and then cancelled. Had it been refused in the first place it wouldn’t have been so bad.
Now, about your other points. I didn’t know Harold’s inward mail was censored, although I appreciated of course that his own letters outward would be if written and posted on the ship. And talking of letters, I’ve written Mother a very brief note today suggesting that she should wire me and I’ll meet her at the station to see her off. There’s no other way of doing things because the time is so limited now.
Yes, I got paid at Devonport, although they paid me 10/- short. I hope to get that back one of these fine days. I’m not short at the moment for the very good reason that I’m saving all I can towards next month when I will need it if I’m going to have to buy cigarettes. I’ll write Frank at Ayr and ask him to try to get some of the lads there to get me some tobacco. I’ve already asked Hughie Ross to see if George Heapes[?] can get some from some of the sailor lads who go in and out of the Grapes. Yes. Will you please send my watch on for me.
So you’re not stagnant? Well, well! Thank goodness you are not. From a purely practical point of view I sometimes wonder if it would not be as well to get those “tied to the house” years over while I’m away. And then I wonder what would happen if the raids began in real earnest again. I’d go crackers if that happened while I was away. When you are stagnant I want to be there to fuss you and watch you and scold you for doing things you shouldn’t do. And to take the cramp out of your leg, and rub your tummy and feel the little beggar kick me in the back. Oh, and to experience all your experiences. While I always love you, sweetheart, I don’t think I ever adore you in quite the same way as I do when you are pregnant. We never seem to be so completely one as from the moment we know what the position is. And, finally, there’s the sight of you looking radiant and triumphant in bed, as if you have accomplished a feat never attempted before. No, sweet, I couldn’t think of all that going on and me not there to share in it. And all that is apart from what we both think on the subject of wartime babies.
I’d have liked to have heard Milly’s views on the sexual problem. I can imagine her still being very vital and, as the lads would say, she’d be a smasher in bed although she would probably drain the man dry! Sorry to be crude about it, but she’ll need a big buck nigger to satisfy her. Shall I put her on my visiting list when I come back to the stud?
Oh, angel, last night I went to a free church concert – yes, I’m reduced to that these days – and a girl came on to play the accordion. She was wearing a dance frock and I fell to wondering how long it was since I saw you in one. We went to very few dances, I know, but I can recall now how jealously I used to look you over to see that my woman was looking her very very best. I think I used to fuss more than you did. What would I give to see you in that frock now and to run my hands over your breast and bottom! Oh, my angel girl, what a night we’d have if I was lucky enough to be home on armistice night! Whoopee! If I’m away from home I’ll just drink myself unconscious for a fortnight in the hope that they will cashier me from the service. What a hope. But enough of that theme.
Tell me about the children. How are they? Are they behaving themselves? I was sorry to hear that Michael had a recurrence of that don’t-touch-my-toys attitude. I thought he had got over that nonsense. Will Wendy need anything to take to school? She won’t yet, will she. School bags and pencil boxes don’t come until later. I think we discussed that before.
I think I told you I had written to Hughie. Some time soon I must get down to some serious letter writing. There was not a lot of news in Percy’s letter but Frank Patterson’s was crammed with news of the lads. Frank says, by the way, that he does not think he will be in Liverpool this leave. That news is a bit late because by the time you get this the lads will be on their way to Ayr, where they have to report on Saturday midday. I’m going to make a date with them. We might go out to Ayr and then make a “return” date for Glasgow. I might get some tobacco from them. Frank, by the way, got 93% for both sending and receiving. Wasn’t that good? Don Gibson was the only one in the class who didn’t get through and he has gone back two classes. His wife, by the way, had a son recently – on the very day the doctor forecast. Take that to heart, young woman! Percy and Ralph both got through their exams alright. Percy with 64% and Ralph with 87%. The pass mark in that exam is 50%!
I’m enclosing a gardening cutting which I meant to send you before. Someone destroyed another about tomatoes which I was trying to keep.
Now I’ve only just realised that today is Friday – this letter was begun last night – so I’ll have to dash for the post.
Goodbye, love. Be good until I come home then be “bad” as you like!
All my love, sweet. Ever your
Arthur X

Monday
Glasgow
My darling,
You will be pleased to hear, I know, that the first weekend in Glasgow has been far more pleasant than I expected, in fact one of the most pleasant I have spent in the Navy. On Saturday we went, as I told you we would do, to Charlie Mitchell’s aunt’s. We went to see Third Lanark play Clyde and even though the game was a bit scrappy we enjoyed watching pro’s bash the ball about again. As you know, it’s years since I saw a game. Then we went back to tea – a very pleasant meal which included home-made apple pie and rhubarb pie. A lovely damask cloth and one of the nicest tea services I have seen added to the enjoyment of the meal. We sat and nattered for an hour or so to Mr and Mrs Livingstone and their married daughter Jess (about my age) and her husband Jim, who works at Rolls Royce but recently got his de-reservation papers. During the evening married couples kept dropping in and by supper-time there were fifteen of us! We did nothing but chatter and the women knitted or crocheted. They took me to see their air raid shelter, a surface type erected by the council for eight families in the flats. These shelters are a bit higher than those at home and the roof is held up by strong girders. The men have run electric light into it, painted and whitewashed it, laid lino and carpet on the floor and all the families have contributed chairs, card tables and even old settees. In one corner is a coal bunker to which they all contribute and which now has half a ton of coal in it. This is used for a stove fire they have installed and on which they have a boiler which takes an hour or so to boil but in one of the big raids they had sufficient tea to give all in the shelter, about 50 of them, two cups of tea and still supply a number of other people in the next shelter. Altogether it is the best one I have seen. After each siren everyone drops a few coppers into a thanks-offering box and this, with the result of one or two raffles, enabled them to send £1 each to eleven sons of shelter users at Xmas. Wasn’t that great? Then they ran a couple of whist drives and sent £17-10s to the Russian Red Cross. They are, as you can guess, quite an enthusiastic crowd when they get going. I think there’s a definite chance of a few games of golf here, so it looks like being a useful contact. When we were coming away, Mrs Livingstone slipped us each a Milky Way. As Charlie said, it was like coming home from a Sunday School treat! But a very welcome break.
Yesterday I went over to Will’s, getting there just about mid-day. When I thought of Mother getting there, I imagined her turning up her nose at the sight of tenements. Later she told me her heart sank! It’s a typical Scotch block of flats. They made me very welcome and we had two nice meals. Will and I went out for a walk after dinner and looked out over the Clyde, which is most impressive in its lower reaches.
We could see a convoy assembling and there, all painted grey, was the great Queen Mary. What a wonderful vessel she looks, even in her drab wartime suit. The tugs alongside her looked as big as matchboxes. This, of course, is probably careless talk, but I know I can tell you that she brought across thousands of Yankee soldiers and “gobs”. Mother behaved extremely well. I took her out for a walk and a bus ride. She gave me £1 and there was never a cross word. I had to get away fairly early to be sure of getting on a bus. It made a very pleasant day and I got home about 11 which was late enough. The Buchanans have told me I’ll be welcome any time, which might be handy if we are ever walking in that direction. I took that hammock over with me and Mother is bringing it home with her. Leave it until I get home and then I’ll show you how to fix it.
Mother looks well after her holiday but she seems to have spent some time nagging Will. I got out of school for half an hour this morning to see them off on the 10.30, which is just about our break time. They were lucky to get a third class seat. Most of the first class part of the train had been reserved for U.S. troops and was marked “not for public use”. You should have heard what one of our lads who had been travelling from Iceland since Thursday had to say when he saw the notices. Blistering!
Well, love, that’s just about all the news. In addition to your bedtime coma letter – how tempting a vision that conjured up – I have had a long newsy letter from Hughie, so with everything I’m feeling a bit more normal today. Mother’s quid came in very useful. I spent 5/- on fares and a cup of tea while we were out, 1/8 for two cups of tea and four biscuits. Anyway, this 5/- and 7/- for repairing one pair of boots cuts a hole in the quid but even so I’m in hand! I’m afraid I’m getting very mercenary!
I hope Wendy’s cold keeps improving, and that you don’t have any trouble with her at Limedale. Try to bear with her while she is going through this “all tensed up” stage waiting for school. She will be alright when she gets there, but I know how excited she must feel and she is probably keeping it all bottled up inside her. Poor kid.
Now darling, I must close and catch the post on the way to school. Goodbye my angel girl. Take care of yourself and save your comas and urges for me.
I love you more and more, precious, with every week that passes. All my love.
Always your
Arthur X

Wednesday
Glasgow
Darling,
Unless something of real interest crops up during the day, I’ll probably save this letter until tomorrow as there is very little that’s new. After a time one day gets very like another on these courses. With writing to so many people, telling them about the place and the course, the whole subject gets sickening.
Your letter posted 6pm yesterday has arrived by the mid-day post so I’ll answer it now. I wrote the first para before going to school. What a time you had at the circus. I’m delighted that you did manage it after all and I’d have given anything to be there with you, or at least to have heard the children describing it. I can just imagine their excitement and I do hate missing all these “first” things. In a short time they will be very sophisticated and there is nothing quite like the first flush of childish enthusiasm for one’s first circus, panto, theatre etc. Anyway, I’m glad I was with them at the panto last year. I will look forward to hearing what they have to say about the circus.
You are quite right about Margaret. She’s going the right way to get herself into a real jam. I’m as broadminded as anyone but I’d thrash you black and blue if you ever tried that nonsense. And after that I’d throw you out. The trouble is in Margaret’s case that Ernest is so loyal that he will suffer a good deal when the war is over. That’s inevitable I think. Things will not be too easy for Mollie either. Poor child, she’s never had a real childhood. Fortunately she has her head screwed on properly and I think she will be more able to escape real personal hurt than Ernest will. May must worry about the whole position, but I think that Ernest is not so blind as he used to be. The only point is what will he do?
Don’t worry about the Glasgow dames, love. I’ve not seen anyone here or anywhere else who can compete with you. Thank God we don’t have to worry about each other in that respect. I do get lonely sometimes, it would be a bad compliment to you to suggest otherwise, but simply because my loneliness is really an ache for YOU there is no other woman who could assuage that ache. Darling, I could never make love to you by proxy, and that would be all I would be doing. No matter what I said to any woman would actually be said to you. It could never be otherwise.
Now, love, tell me about your cold. Is it any better? Do take care of yourself. I hate to think of you being off colour and me not there to fuss you. If you have to get out of bed because of raids, do take care to wrap yourself up warmly before you start moving the family downstairs. There is no point in pretending otherwise, but I worry sometimes about Jerry repaying our thousand-a-night raids during the winter and this is one of the reasons why I wish we’d start a second front, for that would probably keep his available air strength fastened down a good deal. I can only hope that our good luck in last year’s raids will continue. Above all, stay indoors, for apparently our new A.A. devices throw up a lot of funny stuff which, after all, has got to come down again! I’m told it can be pretty hot at times so take care, even in daylight raids, and impress that on the children, will you? Anyway, let’s hope they won’t drop anything more than flares for a long time. I know what you mean about blackout and the raid feeling. I had it when I came back from seeing Mother on Sunday. It’s largely due to the early darkness.
Now, about the cake. Don’t bother sending on here because there are 22 fellows in this mess and it’s difficult to keep things to oneself without looking mean. It’s not like Skeg and Aberdeen. At the latter there were only four of us on a table. I know you’ll understand.
Bye love, must fly to school. I do adore you. Take care of yourself.
All my love,
Arthur X

Saturday
Glasgow
My Sweet,
I’m sorry if I did not make any reference to your long letter written on Sunday. How I could forget to do so when it was so full of interest I can’t make out. I was interested to see that your reactions were very similar to mine, although you obviously remember far more of the smaller incidents in the book. I wonder if the boy is just a flash in the pan, or will this film set him on the road to fame? We don’t seem to nurse youngsters in this country as they do in the U.S.
Glad to hear Milly’s taken to drink. We’ll get her sozzled one night and send her home to rape Tommy. It would do them both the world of good. Even if that doesn’t happen, I’ll be glad to sup her pint. I take them off anyone these days. Last night, for instance, we were duty watch but managed to dodge out to have a quiet gill. A Scottie insisted on buying us two pints each and we are invited to go to his house for tea next Sunday. He is a sergeant in the Signals and was at Dunkirk. He has been out of the Army for two years doing Post Office work and has to rejoin his unit at the end of this month. He says he was treated so well in England that he likes trying to repay the debt to fellows stationed here. Isn’t that decent? I should say he’s in his early forties and he was in the Navy in the last war.
Thank May for taking the trouble to drop that hint to Harold, but if there’s any danger I would rather he didn’t try it. I’d hate to be the cause of his getting in the soup.
I’m glad you managed to get over to the Rosses. How were they all? Did Madge have any good advice to offer you this time? Was there any news of Hughie’s brother Jack? He’s supposed to be in the Middle East isn’t he? I hope he is OK. Did you hear how his youngster is?
Your reference to Chris’s anniversary struck me as being typical of them. And while on this subject, you have twice mentioned our anniversary and I don’t think I have referred to either of the occasions in my replies. The reason, of course, was that both your references turned on the possibility of my being home for that occasion. As you know now, of course, that is quite out of the question, unless of course you can square Rees to send an urgent telegram! Still, I haven’t forgotten our September date. Do you realise that as it falls on a Saturday it actually falls on the day we were married! Some time we will go and spend a Saturday at the Wynnstay. What sayest thou? Or does it put ideas into your head? For the present, however, it would be heaven enough to be in Crosby for that day – and night, of course.
How is the cold? I do hope it is better, but this weather is enough to give anyone a real dose of cold. I don’t know where Mother gets her idea of hot sunshine from. While we have been here it has been reasonable on some days and other days as cold as November. We have had one really hot day and that was yesterday when it really was hot.

Sunday
I got your letter last night when I came in from seeing the sights of the city. We went to one or two pubs – three to be exact – and had a pint in each. Charlie Mitchell and John Gray had an idea that we might perhaps see some life. We were disappointed, however, for all we saw was what might be seen in any big city. A fair number of drunks staggering along the road and one classic pair in dramatic pose swearing eternal friendship to each other. There were, of course, lashings of prostitutes and “amateurs” trying, and in many cases succeeding, in picking fellows up. Central station is the notorious place for that in Glasgow and they use exactly the same technique as in every big city. We did not see any of the famous razor fights, however, so we are going round the Gorbals and Clydebank districts some time.
Many thanks for your very sweet letter, angel. It meant a lot to me. As you know, I have never been able to get over the miracle of you falling in love with me and despite all you say, I can never picture myself as the perfect husband. I’m not fishing for more compliments when I say that. Whenever I have stopped to analyse myself in any way I can only see myself as a very ordinary person full of little failings – selfish, often lazy and procrastinating. sometimes a bit bad-tempered and never, except when I’m a bit bottled, at all amusing. On the other side of married life I have done all I can to show how much I do love you in every sense of the word and perhaps my saving grace is that I do and always will love you so deeply that I know, from that point of view, that you and I are absolutely safe. Precious, I love you more and more every day and when I read your letter last night it was like being with you physically. I could feel you all round me and I went to bed with my head pillowed ever so comfortably on your breasts. It was so nice and “homey” that I’m sure I must have dropped off to sleep with a “sweet con” smile all over my smug face. And what nice dreams I had. Not very “violent” ones but just a succession of those sweet intimate things which we have shared so often before and the thought of which even now gives me that delightful and familiar stirring right deep down in my loins and which is so different from a mere vulgar erection. As I said once before, I think, it’s really a deep-seated yearning for you which can never be wholly satisfied by sexual intercourse. I have to hold you tight, and crush you, and almost hurt you with kisses, and then become all tender again in remorse, and then start all over again. You know what I mean and what lovely hours can fly swiftly past before they do culminate in oats such as you and I alone in all this world have ever known. And then to fall asleep locked together. Oh, angel, if only I could fly straight to you now! When will this damned war end? This is why I want to get done with this training business and throw my puny weight into the scales to try to bring all this nonsense to an end just a little bit sooner. We’ll never get anywhere with all this hanging back.
And now, sweet, they have started compulsory church for the Meths this week so I must leave you.
Goodbye, my sweet, for now and do take care of yourself. I hope your cold is better now. Many thanks for the children’s letters. Tell them I’ll write soon. All my love.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Tuesday
Glasgow
Dearest,
Remember Alex Brown, one of the “knock-off” kings of the process dept of the ‘Daily Post’? Well, he is here in the ‘Scottish Daily Express’ so I looked him up last night. He nearly fell over when he saw me in uniform and never seemed to recover fully from the shock. I couldn’t stay very long as he only had half an hour for supper, but I’m going to have a gill with him in his supper hour on Friday and we may be able to fix it so that Charlie and I have a look over the place. He says the job is the sort of thing you dream about. There are eight of them to handle less pictures than two of them used to do for the ‘D.P.’! His wife and youngster are still in Wallasey and he says he doesn’t think he will move them up here. Although money and conditions are better here, I think he’s hoping that now Mackay [??] has kicked the bucket there may be a chance of the ‘D.P.’ reopening the process. If they did he might get a boss’s job. Hope he’s lucky.
My usual Jonah’s luck holds good here. Sunday saw the inauguration of compulsory church parade for the Meths and the service lasted so long that by the time we got back from church everyone had finished dinner and ours was stone cold. It was a lovely morning so we had intended getting out early to make a day of it. However, we got away just before two o’clock, Jack Gray and I, and took a tram and then a bus to Helensburgh, which is on the opposite side of the Clyde to Port Glasgow and almost facing it. We walked along and had a look at Gare Loch then had tea at a YMCA. We had to catch a bus early as there were big queues forming even at 6.30 and as the weather was dull and cold from the time we got there, there was not a great deal to entice us to stay. For all that, I enjoyed the run and it was good to get some really clean air in my lungs once again.
Now, about Michael’s birthday. I had a look round an arcade here which seems to be the only place where there are any toys on show. The places all close at 5 and from the window the only suggestions I could gather were books, painting set, a tool set (this might appeal now) or a compendium of games such as snakes and ladders, lotto, etc. There was nothing in the way of ordinary toys such as cars, buses etc, except for big and expensive constructional sets far too old for him. Of the things I saw, perhaps the best suggestion is the tool set. I think we toyed with that idea at Xmas, didn’t we? Let me know what you think and I’ll try to get the price of a set if you think it worthwhile.
I meant to tell you of a couple we saw in the queue at Helensburgh. You would have been intrigued. I should think the girl was possibly 20. Certainly no more, but she was wearing a wedding ring. The fellow kept hold of both of her hands all the time and kept pulling her close to him. His eyes never left hers for a minute and the look in her eyes would have given one of Epstein’s figures an erection. She was shrieking to be shagged and every woman within sight was shuffling her bottom in sympathy! Perhaps that’s a slight exaggeration. Anyway, it was most unsettling to see this bloke nibbling her ear and rubbing his face against hers. Somehow he didn’t seem to be her husband. That’s enough of that subject, but I thought of you a lot and would have given anything to have been doing to you what that lad was doing to the girl – but not in public because, with all humility, I think I could have improved on the performance!!
You’ll be interested to know that ‘Gone With The Wind’ is showing here and we may make an effort to see it next week. Everyone says it’s a fine show. I’m getting a real film fan in my old age, aren’t I? If we do go I’ll tell you about it of course.
One thing I have noticed about Glasgow is that there seems to be a lot of “immoral” drinking. The pubs are closed all day Sunday and on Thursday evening as well. They close at 9pm on Saturday and 9.30 on other nights, but for all that you see a lot of people really drunk quite early in the night – any time after 6 o’clock. Of course the Scots don’t encourage people to sit down and drink in comfort. The custom is to go into a pub, swallow half a dozen pints and whiskies and roll out bottled! The people who seem to get bottled most, and they are nasty in drink, are the people you wouldn’t think had two ha’pennies to rub together. One never sees them pleasantly boozed somehow. Don’t think this is sour grapes, just because I’m practically T.T. these days. I have more or less stopped drinking so as to have some money to buy cigarettes when my tobacco runs out. Still, before that happens I might be able to get some from some of the lads. I’ve written to Percy.
Well, love, I don’t think there’s anything else to tell you just now. I’ll answer your letter tomorrow.
Bye for now, angel. I do hope your cold is better. All my love, sweet. I love you more and more.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Thursday
Glasgow
Angel Girl,
It was like a lucky dip opening the parcel, what with the shoes, the watch, your note and Frank’s letter telling me all about Scotia where they seem to be quite happy. The place has apparently improved a lot in the last few months. Oh, in case I forget, you nosey bitch, the Gosport letter was from Ralph. That question was just like an echo of the good old days when you used to ask “Who’s that?” every time I nodded to anyone. Happy days.
Once again, many thanks for all the details about the great day. I quite caught the atmosphere of the house from all you told me. Thank goodness it’s over. She will probably settle down a lot now. I don’t think there’s any points for me to answer and perhaps it would be best for me to save any comments for my reply to Wendy.
How is May looking? She does look forward to Harold’s leaves, doesn’t she? Although I rather think he finds plenty of occupation outside the home when he is home as most young lads inevitably do.
Now I’ll probably jump about from one subject to another. I’m gradually learning to use my teeth properly, but the bottom set have made my gums very sore and I am leaving them out for a few days, at least while I have meals because I have quite a big ulcer. So you are back to knitting? You have a big task in front of you, haven’t you? I think I suggested it once before but you never followed it up. So I’m going to try again. Do YOUR jumper before you start anything else. You know that if there are things to be done for the children they are certain to be done, but if you leave your own until the first enthusiasm has gone you will never get it done. Will you PROMISE me to do your own before anything else? No alibis about how the children need things. You’ll do your own in no time if you start it NOW!
I liked Wendy’s cracks about grandparents! And the one about babies being contrary to expectations. She’s a knowing little bird. I’d hate to suggest collusion between the female members of my family on this question of additions to the family!
What did you give Wendy Perry? It’s a queer idea leaving Dave and Wendy there on their own, isn’t it? Give my regards to Dave. I really must write him soon. With writing you every day I don’t seem to have any time to get down to all my letters, although I must have been writing to Frank at his home as he was writing to me. And that, I think, clears up all the earlier letters from you.
Many thanks for today’s epistle, love. I have just finished reading that and Wendy’s letter. I’m glad Peggy keeps in touch. She’s a good scout. What a change for you to be a lady of leisure – the operative word there is not lady! I suppose you will gradually work out a new schedule for yourself and soon find as much as ever to do. Aren’t you going to find it rather a long drag down to Johnson’s in the winter weather?
Wendy will probably be a lot better now that she has achieved her ambition of going to school. It has probably been worrying her and I’ve never known anyone who was so keen about school. I’m certain I wasn’t. I do wish I could have been home for this event.
Have you had that tooth out? I hope you have, for you will only be miserable until it’s done. I’m glad the cold is better, but you wouldn’t be very popular at Limedale would you? Don’t forget to let me know about the tooth, will you?
Now, I think I’m up to date with all your letters. The dance last night was quite a pleasant affair. It was held in a hall not unlike the infamous County Hall, where a promising young journalist first became entangled in the tails of a scheming and conscienceless young hussy – but what an adorable hussy she has proved to be. Oh angel, what a train of thought that sets up – just as it did last night. I thought of you as soon as I set foot inside the place. What a lot has happened since that night – and how many insertions there have been. Do you remember how we used to count them?
My darling, this is dangerous. I have to be back at school in 20 minutes. So no comas. My sweet, my sweet, I adore you and I’m in that mood to chase you upstairs, dinner time as it is! Lie down, John!
Bye for now, precious. All my love.
Ever,
Arthur X

Monday 17 August 1942
Glasgow
Dear Wendy,
I am writing this letter on the first day you are at school and I wonder if you have learned your lessons any better than I have learned mine. I hope you like your school as well as I like this one. Have you a nice teacher? I am looking forward to getting a letter from you telling me all about it and who all the girls are in your class. What sort of games do you play? Thank you for your letter telling me all about the circus and I only wish I could have been there with you.

Friday
I had only written that little bit when the teacher came along and said he thought I had better type some of my proper lessons, but as I have learned some more I am starting to answer your other letter as well. I do wish I could have been at home when you started school, but as I could not it was nice having your letter. I am glad the teacher thinks you are such a clever girl. Mummy and I have always known it, of course. But did you remember to write your 4’s the right way?
When I come home on leave again perhaps you will tell me some of the stories your teacher has been reading to you. Did she read any that you knew besides the one she sang to you? You have made a lot of friends in the short time you have been at school. Perhaps I will see some of them when I come home. Soon you may learn to do some exercises as well as learning to play games. Mummy has told me that you can go to school by yourself and I think you are very clever to do so, but you must always remember to look both ways before you cross the road – but you know that, don’t you? Very soon now you will be able to write to me yourself and then you really will be a big girl. Will you write to me again sometime and tell me more about school because I like getting letters from you and Michael.
Now I must stop because we go home for tea soon and I have to clear all the bits of paper off my desk. Do you still play with the school desk I made for you?
Bye for now, love. See you in a few weeks, I hope.
Lots of love from
Daddy

P.S. Last night I went to a museum and saw hundreds and hundreds of dolls. There were dolls from England, Scotland, Ireland, Canada, America and Negro dolls and Red Indian dolls. There were also tiny little dolls in cots and a big doll’s house which you would have loved if you had seen it.

Monday
Glasgow
Dearest,
I won’t make any effort to reply to your lovely letter, received this morning. That sort of letter needs more leisure and ’ush than is available now. But I will reply to it. I love your letters in that vein, but I like them best when I can creep away somewhere and give rein to all the delightful pictures and memories they conjure up. For the moment, however, I won’t make any effort in that direction.
There has been little of real interest during the weekend. I fell asleep after dinner yesterday and when I woke up both John and Charlie had disappeared, with the result that I was on my own all day. After finishing your letter I went to the post and on to Queen’s Park, where one gets a fine view of Glasgow from the top of the hill. I spent a couple of hours wandering round the park, which is infested on a Sunday with Jewish families – very like Sefton Park. On the tramcar I saw, of all things, a great fat Jewess in a violent plaid kilt! She looked hideous. The Jewish pros are fairly decking themselves out for the Yankee soldiers and sailors who are now infesting the place. Anyway, that’s by the way. In the park there is a lovely big boating pond Michael would love. Quite a few men were sailing big boats there. Further on I watched a woman in her early 30s training a boy of about 10 to play tennis, and very intelligently she was doing it, too. The boy was in dead earnest about it.
After tea I did a bit of washing that I needed urgently and then went to another park, this time Alexandra Park, and watched them playing golf and tennis, then round to the band concert and a tour of the flower gardens which, even in wartime, look really beautiful. In common with so many parts up here the person who planned them has a weakness for dahlias and some of the beds looked really lovely.
I was a bit browned off being on my own and walked at a tremendous rate all night, but never really got the venom out of my system until I went to bed. It was just one of those days and I’ve got over it now. Tonight we are going to make a determined effort to see ‘Gone With The Wind’. We are looking out for Chaplin’s ‘Goldrush’ which is due to come here soon.
Well, love, this is just about all the news, I’ll try to write you a more interesting letter tomorrow. Oh, by the way, I have been going to ask you before. Did I leave my service glasses at home? Will you let me know as soon as you can because if they are not then I must have left them at Devonport and will have to write for them.
Bye for now, angel. My love to the children. All my love, sweet.
Ever your,
Arthur X

P.S. Can you let me have Bert’s address? I had a letter card from him in Anglesey.

Wednesday
Glasgow
Darling,
While I was on fire watch last night I made a start, at long last, on a letter to Dave, so with a bit of luck I should be able to get it finished and posted in time for the weekend. What a do we had last night. The P.O. who runs the canteen here is a nasty bit of work and he knows that lads have been going out without leaving their cards with the hall sentry, which is the only check they have on people. If your card has not been collected by midnight you are adrift, so the lads go out without leaving their cards or lifting their metal discs from the board. As every bloke came in last night he stopped them to collect their cards. If it was not there he put them down for a visit to the Commander. He was doing a roaring trade in names and numbers when I went on duty at midnight and when he eventually went to his couch he left us with strict instructions to take the name of everyone who came in after that time. Needless to say none was taken, although we would be in the soup if it was known. That’s the worst of these clever young lads who think they are doing the big thing, they are just running risks with other people’s names. Anyway, we got away with it.
There is nothing really new to tell you. We had a typing exam this morning but everyone seems to have been overcome by examination nerves for they have decided to have another one this afternoon. I know I reached the dizzy speed of 13 words a minute with 11 mistakes over 5 minutes typing, which is far from good after nearly a month, but everyone seems to have done badly. To hell with it anyway.
I’ve just had your letter and I’m sorry you had such a bad day but, as you will see from a letter which you will have had by now, I’m not surprised at Michael. Lots of little boys are the same. They seem much more restless when cooped up indoors and it is not really until they reach the Meccano stage that they really begin to amuse themselves indoors. It’s one of the reasons why you will see little boys playing out in all sorts of weather when girls are in reading or playing a game or painting or sewing. A boy learns to use his hands later than a girl and, somehow, a lad who will sit quietly and read is for some reason or other regarded as being a bit of a pansy, unless he does his reading at night – preferably by the light of a smuggled candle. I know it seems all wrong, but there it is!
We have been paid today and again got 2/- less than at Aberdeen and still there’s no sign of the 10/- they owe us from Devonport. All of the lads who came up at the same time as us seem to be in the same boat, the official explanation being that the papers have not come through from the different depots yet. What a bleeding Navy! The only comfort we get is that we will get it all sooner or later. There was a case of this at Devonport when a fellow who was going on leave had reason to expect £15 credits. He was told there was nothing for him, given £1 casual payment and when he protested was told by the Commander, “That’s enough from you. The papers have not arrived. Don’t worry, you’ll get it some time.”
We are going to try to book for the YMCA’s Loch Lomond trip today, as it may be the last of the season. If today’s weather holds it should be a glorious trip. I’m looking forward to it and will be really disappointed if we can’t manage it.
I was intrigued by Cynthia’s hymn singing stunt, and particularly by the contributions of our two. They’ll probably grow up to be regarded by the smug Crosbyites as heathens.
Well, love, this is about all the news for today. Thanks for Bert’s address, which confirms my memory. Must be off to school now. All my love, sweet.
Always your own,
Arthur X

Friday
Glasgow
Sweetheart,
Another Saturday letter, and another week gone! Four of them reeled off now, love. A third of the way through the course, we hope. Only about 8 more weeks and then, I believe, off we go to London! From what we have heard, everyone goes to Chatham on completion of this course. If that is so I’ll be able to spend a few weekends with Dot and Jack, and if we do get a chance of a weekend from there it won’t take half as long to get home. We hear, by the way, that some of the fellows who were in the last class here, and who completed the course more than two months ago, are still at Chatham. I wonder what the chances of Xmas leave are? Or is that expecting too much and looking too far ahead? There’s one thing about this course, I think they will do their bit to push us through and the instructors are a decent pair of fellows. One of them gave me a sound rating yesterday for allowing nerves to affect me at my time of life! Charlie Mitchell is quite convinced, of course, that we will both fail this course and is wondering what we can go in for next. Whether we would have any choice in the matter is very doubtful! But we get a lot of fun out of imagining our girlish jealousies of each other’s flaky pastry, or bread or puddings if we suddenly found ourselves on a cook’s course! We have just finished a good half hour’s laugh on the prospect of a limitless line of courses in the Navy. All this, of course, is just fun, but we have been saying how much we’d like to go back to Devonport and then home again for another leave before we begin once more to take a different course.
The weather is lovely here now and has been for the last two days. It’s a real Indian summer and we are hoping that it will hold for the weekend because we have managed to book for the YMCA trip to Loch Lomond and are really looking forward to it. I expect we will have a load of Yanks with us. They seem to be everywhere these days. Talking of the weather and Yanks, what price an invasion now if the weather really has settled down? One of the Glasgow papers comments, rather cynically, that we are too late again and that the Russians, tiring of waiting for us, have begun their own second front! Quite a crack, eh?
There’s not a great deal of news today. As I think I told you, we are going to another dance tonight. I don’t know who is running it, but 12 of us were invited from here and our class leader included me in the party in my absence. It was thoughtful of him and it will be as good an excuse as any other to go for a drink or two and will help to fill in still one more night. We are running a dance from here in about two or three weeks, I believe. They are waiting until they hear when the Commander is going on leave and they’ll arrange it while he is away, because he is a bit sticky about some things, I believe. We didn’t do anything very special last night. Charlie went to an aunt’s, John Gray went to a cousin’s and I went and soaked my dirty body in a bath at the corporation baths. The total cost was twopence including towel and soap – a special concession to the forces. It was the best bath I have had since I left home. Lovely warm water, chest deep. After that I did a bit of washing and then finished Dave’s letter. I really should have written him long ago.
When do Eric and Lilian move out of Westmoreland Road? Is it at the end of the month? I haven’t heard from them since I came here and there’s no point in writing now because they might not get it before they leave, so I’ll wait now until I hear from them. I haven’t heard from Dot, either. Isn’t she coming up home soon? And talking of letters, I must write May soon to thank her for the parcel.
Many thanks for your letter, love, but I’ve two bones to pick with you. First of all, what’s all this nonsense about “ratting” on the Navy? Don’t you know that a sailor is always right? And, what’s more, I don’t like the crack about him probably being under training! Seriously, you are quite right and I’m glad the conductress stuck to her point. I’ll bet the sailor felt more uncomfortable than she did, for all his bluster. That’s the first nark. Secondly, who said you had the copyright on oats à la Johnson? Don’t I come into this? (pardon the pun). And, further more, you will notice that this particular brand is called Johnsonian and not Gregsonian oats! So pipe down young woman and don’t get tough. Without me, where would you be? Probably in the A.T.S. peeling spuds and having your bottom felt by any stray soldiers. See what I have saved you from! And just show a little gratitude.
Well, precious, this is all for now. Bye bye. Behave yourself for another eight weeks or so. I love you still, angel. All my love.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Monday
Glasgow
Dearest,
I didn’t thank you adequately for your Saturday letter, which was very nice with its talk of last Sept 12. As if I could forget it! It was one of our most beautiful nights. If you really feel like that about it, why don’t you go to see Rees? Let me know what you think about the idea, will you? Can’t he fix you with something to be worn only when I’m home to save you the bother of things like that permanently? It would be so nice just to be able to whip in whenever the mood seized us and not have to worry about things. Solubles are good and useful but they are more messy than a ring, aren’t they? The idea of all these treats is definitely unsettling me, and I’m getting quite light-headed at the visions they conjure up. I can see me going into a coma in the middle of the morning, so I’d better drop it as I’m writing this before school.
I don’t think there are any points to answer in your letter, but I’m sorry you have had such a bad day. Poor old girl and you didn’t have me to natter at or to call you names for being so stupid! Do you let Wendy stay to dinner when you go to town, or do you go in the afternoon while she is at school?
I think I told you pretty well everything about Saturday’s trip. Yesterday was quiet but pleasant. After dinner we went over to Charlie’s fish and chip aunt. After chatting for a time Charlie went for a bath and I fell fast asleep in the settee. I was out to the world for three-quarters of an hour. What a change it was. In the evening a couple of friends whom we had met at another aunt’s came in. We were invited by them to go over to visit them a fortnight yesterday and it was not until afterwards that I realised I am on duty that weekend. Which is a pity for it would have filled in another weekend. Still, we have another invite which has yet to materialise – that is to the home of Charlie’s cousin, a young couple with no family. Did I tell you Charlie is expecting an addition to the family? He has a little girl of three, already. His wife is already more than three weeks overdue, as she was with the first. He has my sympathy for although he exhibits an outward phlegm in all things, he has been suffering with violent indigestion for the last few weeks! As you’ll understand, I have a fellow feeling for him.
Well, love, that’s about all the news today. There’s not much happening just now. Your letter has not got the morning delivery. I’ll get it tonight but I want to get this in the post now. I have had a letter from Eric. They are going to Keswick for a week from Tuesday until Sept 8th. As you probably know, they are out of Westmoreland Road and are going into a boarding house or hotel until they know whether they are getting a big contract in Cheshire. That’s about all the news from them.
Well, bye for now. All my love, sweet.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Darling,
It was good to have such a long letter of home news as that which arrived this afternoon. Many thanks, love. It was like a breath of home. I hope you manage to save some of those plums until I come home. What a gastronomic treat I’m going to have sampling all your hoarded treasures when at last I do come for good. I suppose that day will eventually arrive. Just think of the jars of jam, bottles of fruit etc you’ll need to satisfy my appetite. Where does Mrs Hodge get all her sugar from? Is her husband home still? From what you say, I should think your fruit will keep alright so far as being airtight is concerned providing you have smothered the whole of your paper “corks” in candle grease. Otherwise paper is porous, you know, and if the juice gets onto the paper it will work upwards and gradually reach the air. You seem to have been painstaking about it. Your stock of beans will be mounting by now, won’t they?
I’m glad to hear you can ward off your migraine attacks, if only to some extent. Even that’s an improvement on your other experiences. By the way, have you begun your autumn course of green pills yet? Now, that’s the second time I have mentioned it so you have no excuse! I don’t know about kicking you in the pants. I have other ideas, you know. And talking of pills, don’t forget to let me know about the solubles, will you? You see, if you do want some, I’ll have to get them some time when none of the lads are with me, and that doesn’t happen very often. Oh, my precious. Just the thought of it is doing all sorts of things to me and I’m going all dreamy about the eyes. I’ve taken the hint about your early retiring! I’ll remember.
At that point I went off into a deep delightful coma from which I was only aroused by someone wanting to know the time. It was such a lovely comfortable coma, too. Just you and I, first with me being nearly strangled by the strength of your hugs as I walked in unexpectedly (conceited sod, aren’t I?) and from that point, which lasted quite a time, we drifted to the armchair where we just sat and held each other close. At last I held you close with one hand while the other rediscovered all or most of its old haunts. Oh, darling, they are just the same and it’s as delightful as ever to sit you on my knee and just let my hand rest between your thighs. Such lovely thighs they are, too. (Incidentally, John is lying warm and throbbing along my thigh just now.) Do you know, I sometimes like you as much in the armchair as on other occasions in bed, because in the chair I can see your eyes grow all dim and lovely and deep. But after a time I produced the solubles and you went all goosey so we wandered – yes, just wandered so as to draw out the anticipation – up to bed and it was a bit of a struggle for both of us to walk upstairs at the same time, but I didn’t want to take my hand off your left breast! My hand was cupped so warmly and comfortably round it. And in bed we did have such perfect union. It wasn’t just oats. It was a real reunion and every time I ejaculated we flowed more and more into each other until there was only one of us and instead of being in bed we were in such a heavenly aura – something above and beyond all earthly things and I knew that once again I had lost myself in you. Oh, my precious, you mean so much to me. Do take care of yourself. I wonder if anyone can ever have loved another person as I love you? I can’t imagine it. And I wonder how many other people would really understand this letter if they could but see it?
Now to answer some of the more mundane points in your letter. We don’t know any details of Chatham yet, but if we do go there I’ll look Bill up although Navy pay won’t run to the London Press Club. One night there would cost more than a fortnight’s wages! I can well imagine Wendy’s delight with the sewing machine and I think your Xmas and birthday ideas very good. Dave is lucky getting Wendy into school and it will be a good thing if all the other children get in to Crosby Road. Wendy seems to have gone off Cynthia lately. Don’t be too down on Michael just now while he’s finding his feet. To be thrown on your own resources at his age is a big change, you know. I’m not suggesting that you spoil him, of course. If he’s naughty, spank him good and proper. But we have been trying to teach him to look after himself instead of coming in for protection and I don’t think he is inherently mean or bullying. I think you’ll find he will grow up into a nice lad, especially once he gets to school. I don’t like too pointed comparisons between them. You’ll find them both good kids. That theme could be dveloped further but we’ll let it go at that for the moment.
Many thanks for your letter, I’m glad to hear everyone at Limedale is well but May will miss her women, won’t she? I’ve always had the impression that she preferred women to men. At least the women seem to have lasted longer lately. The continentals who have had experience of the Nazis are very interesting but, as you suggest about the Austrian, I’m always a bit sceptical myself, perhaps through a surfeit of persecution stories in the press and on the radio. And then, of course, so many of the French soldiers and sailors who came over from Dunkirk decided to go back rather than to fight the hated Hun that from that time I began to distrust continentals. Probably quite wrong, but there it is.
I knew, as soon as I heard the advance announcement on the radio, that you would be listening to ‘The Young Mr Pitt’ and had a clear picture of you making yourself comfortable and using the radio to blot out one more hour of the weekend. Did you like it? Sybil Thorndike is in Glasgow this week in ‘The House Of Jeffreys’, but I doubt if I can afford a luxury like that. However, we’ll see how the week goes. Some time I will pay a visit to the Rep Co.
It’s funny that your letter to me today should contain a reference to a consciousness of my presence while most of this letter is devoted to the same subject.
On the subject of the weather, I told you that Saturday turned out pretty rotten. Sunday was a bad day, yesterday turned out a bit better and today is bright and sunshiney but not very warm.
By the way, on the steamer on Saturday I made friends with a lovely little pup. A Sealyham, only about a month old, and just a ball of fluff. The children would have gone crazy about it. It had so much fur that you couldn’t see its legs.
Well, this is all for now, love. Bye till tomorrow. Take care of yourself and don’t forget your green pills! All my love, angel.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Thursday
Glasgow
My darling girl,
Actually I’m beginning this last night, so to speak! That’s a bit Irish, isn’t it? I have been hearing, unwillingly, that blasted Radio Padre and my blood is boiling. He says the last three years have been a happy time! I wonder how many relations he has lost in the blitzes?
But thank goodness I have your vision-producing letter to chase that vile mood away. I should think at best half a tennis ball is required to subdue my sperms! But apart from the safety side of things, I should think that destroys the whole idea of oats from your point of view, doesn’t it? What thrill could you get with a contraption like that covering the most sensitive spot – the neck of the womb? I may be wrong but I should say that is the great advantage of pessaries – that they spread only a film of oil or some such substance over that delightful little spot. Tell me what you think, but personally, I want to feel the little, oh so delightful neck of the womb nestling snugly round the very tip of John when he reaches that lovely period of rigidity which I always wish would last for five minutes instead of the all too fleeting time he does hold it. That is my opinion of these things. What do you think? Let me know what your physical and mental reactions are likely to be, darling. I can have such a lovely coma on the strength of it! And just before I leave this subject, I was thinking of the famous Rendells. What thinkest thou? Please, sweet, let me know in your next letter, because I have so few opportunities of getting to the shops while they are open and alone. You see, the shops here shut early and so far I have always been near these places to and from school, when one or the other of the lads is there. That deals with the practical side of it. On the other side is the fact that just thinking of the eventuality so closely means that I have a prize erection you’d give anything to lay hands on! Oh, sweetheart, what a moment when I sink John, naked and unashamed, in the tender, lovely, warm embraces of Mary with the full knowledge that there need be no hurried withdrawal to spoil things. Just to let him lie and soak. Oh, angel, what heaven. But I warn you now, weeks and weeks ahead of schedule, that the experience will stimulate poor old John to such an extent that he will probably foam at the mouth very early in the proceedings. Oh, angel, I can hear all your delightful gurgles now as John “plits plits” [??] right on to the neck of the womb! Angel, I’m going to wash and shave in order to cool off. Night night, sweet.
It is now dinner time on the REAL today! Many thanks for your long and informative letter – information on so many points from footballs to rings! Congratulations on your stout work on the birthday present. Nice work, love, but you will have to be careful where he plays with it or you will find a few broken windows in the road, especially if you let it out about the time the older boys are there. In these days I wouldn’t dream of suggesting football boots for him. Even in normal times I think that Michael is not the lad to have football boots at his age because the studs drive into your feet on the hard roadway. Anyway, he should be delighted. I can still remember my big thrill the first time I was given a “casey”, as we used to call them. And evidently you managed the whole day well. I’m glad, for it makes such a difference.
So Valerie’s party went off all right? Good. Wendy seems to have made a hit there as well as at school. On the latter point we will have to be careful that we don’t make her conceited. There’s nothing worse than a kid who’s a prig about its own abilities. For all that, I’m glad she is starting so well because it will give her confidence early on – a confidence she will probably carry with her all through her school life. As you say, if she can attract the attention of the teachers now it may do her good later on. Tell her I got her message and that I know she’s a clever girl and I’m sure Michael is going to be a clever boy when he goes to school. Must preserve the balance!
Contraceptives seem to form the bulk of the first part of this letter, so there’s no need – or rather, no time! – to start that subject again. But while on that subject, I’m glad that vapours are prompt. I always think it’s a sign of better health. Hope you don’t have too bad a time, love. Glad to hear you are sleeping better. I know what sleepless nights are like only too well.
I had been wondering how it was Mother had not been over to see Geo. Probably Hennion is the stumbling block for I doubt if Mother’s forced and rather unreliable humour will be Hennion’s idea of a perfect guest.
Well, love, that’s about all for now. I have had a gala day again, with letters from Mother and Frank Patterson, but as I haven’t had time to open them yet, I can’t give you any news. I must be off now.
All my love and take care of yourself for me.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Thursday
My darling,
Here’s hoping that this will be well enough typed to be fit to send off to you. We have just had one of our weekly exams and, while it still leaves a lot to be desired, it is at least an improvement on last week’s effort. I can’t say there is a lot of fresh news today for the day is still young. We are having perfectly foul weather again and today is for all the world like the middle of November. By the time you get this you will have been to town again and I only hope that you have had better luck with Michael’s present.
That part of the letter was written before I went to dinner and I have now your letter about birthdays and have answered all the points in a letter which I have just posted to you, so I don’t think there is a great deal more to be said on that subject except that I will be interested to hear how the party goes off.
There was an interesting incident at the billet at dinner time and one which rattled a few of the lads a bit. A youngster was caught taking French leave a few days ago and today he was sentenced. For that ceremony all the ship’s crew – we are a ship for this purpose – have to be assembled and sentence promulgated while we all stand with our hats on. The Commander solemnly read out the charge – one of breaking out of a naval establishment for a period of two days and two hours. The sentence was a bit savage, we thought – 14 days cells and 16 days’ pay stopped, which in the case of a married man would mean that his wife’s allowance might also be stopped for the same period. In addition the lad is reduced to second class for leave purposes, which means that he may never go ashore while he is in Glasgow without the special permission of the Commander. The thing that made it so stiff for him actually was the fact that this was his second offence. This incident has put the wind up a lot of the lads who had it in mind to make a break for home one weekend, although I know of one fellow who has not been put off. Now I must do some serious work so I’ll finish this later on at the billet. Bye for now.
Well, that’s the end of the first lot of typing done specially for you. That was done at about 16 to 18 words a minute I should think, for in the exam I typed 80 words at 16 words a minute with only one mistake. The instructor seems satisfied with my progress and, although I hesitate to discuss courses after the Aberdeen business, I feel a good deal more confident this week and, as in so many other cases, confidence counts for a lot. I’m doing reasonably well in the other things – tape reading, plain language, code and cypher. Later, when I get on the perforator machine, I’ll do the children’s names for them as a novelty but don’t mention it yet. When Wendy can read a bit, I’ll type little things for her to see if she can read them, but that will be some distance away yet.
I don’t think there is a great deal to be said just now. There was not a lot of news in Mother’s letter. She says that Geo is asking about me, so I’d better write her soon I suppose. Beyond that, Mother didn’t have a great deal to say about Geo, at which I’m not exactly surprised in view of what you say. Frank wrote today, which was a coincidence as last night I had started a letter to him. The same thing happened last time. Our letters crossed. Frank and some of the lads from Aberdeen are coming over on Saturday, so I’m looking forward to seeing them again, especially as I think Frank may be able to help things a bit. It will be good to see the lads again. Edgar Taylor, by the way, is a real sailor now. You knew that he went back to his base and went in for R.D.F. Now he’s up here after serving in a cruiser, but we haven’t been able to contact him yet. I’d like to hear his views of things. I’ll bet they are illuminating! Edgar’s a real Yorkshire lad alright.
Well, love, that’s about all for tonight. I’ll add a bit more tomorrow but before I say “night night” I’ll just say once more how much I love you. Oh, sweet, I miss you so much these days in every possible way and there is scarcely a day goes by without me coming home to you a dozen times. I have got into the habit of seeing everything through your eyes and holding long conversations with you. We hear very little of the radio here but some of the fragments I do hear remind me of you so much. Angel, you are more and more the complement of my life. And your letters mean so much to me with all their news of home and the little doings of the children – and most of all news of you and what you are doing and feeling and thinking. I love your letters, especially those coma-ish letters and those like the recent ones full, as you say, of feminine anatomical details. Darling, never apologise for things like that. They conjure up visions which are so delightful to me and visions which I would give anything to turn into concrete facts. Fancy feeling you now in my arms. Sweetheart, every day while I’m talking to you in my letters at this time I close my eyes for a few minutes and will you into my arms. Isn’t it funny that when I was at Aberdeen these thoughts tortured me. Now they comfort me more than you will ever know. How often have I said you’ll never know how much I love you? I don’t know but I say it again. Precious, I adore you more and more and all I long for is to hold you in actuality in my arms and to murmur all those little things which mean so much to you and I. Even now I get such a thrill from feeling your hair against my face and the velvet of your neck and the tips of your ears as I caress them and feel you quiver so delightfully beneath my wandering, caressing, questing hands. When you fail to thrill to my hands I shall know that you have no love left for me – a day which shall never ever come.

Friday dinner time
Tragedy, sweetheart, stark staring naked tragedy! I could have cried my eyes out. Your parcel arrived ten minutes ago. I opened it and what do you think I found? You’re right. The jar was in pieces and of course it was quite impossible to eat any of it. I could not resist dipping my finger into it and even then I found two minute splinters of glass in my mouth! It tasted delicious, too. If ever you should be sending any more I think I’d send it in syrup tins or tins of some sort. It is a shame but I suppose it can’t be helped.
Many thanks, too, for the papers. I have just had a quick glance at the ‘B.T.’ and see there has been a big golf tourney. They did well, didn’t they, from a financial point of view, but the ‘B.T.’s report gives no description of the play. Still, I don’t suppose they have anyone there now who can play the game.
I was on duty last night and at last got a start on a letter to May and with anything like luck I’ll get it finished tonight. Incidentally, the old hen hasn’t written me yet! Mothers-in-law I’ve met ‘em – but don’t tell her I called her an old hen, will you? She may get that dirty Irish temper of hers up!
Bye for now, my love. Hope your tummy is better now. My love to the children. All my love, angel.
Ever your
Arthur X

Sunday
Glasgow
Dear Michael,
I am sending this parcel to you and Wendy. The hat is for Wendy and the chocolate is for you to give to the boys who come to your party – and some to Wendy as well, of course. I can’t get as much as I used to do but this is a little bit extra for you and your friends. I hope you will like it. Mummy will like the chocolate with the cream in it, so will you give her some of that kind? I do hope you have a nice party and that this parcel arrives in time. Did you get a lot of surprises for your birthday? I hope you like your football, but be careful not to play in the street or the big boys may kick it through the window and then Mummy would have to pay for the window to be mended.
Now I must hurry to ask the postman to bring this to you. Once again, many happy returns, son.
Lots of love from
Daddy

Dear Wendy,
I was in a shop on Saturday and I saw this little hat and the lady said I didn’t need any coupons to buy it so I got it for you because I thought you might like it. I hope you will.
Mummy tells me you are learning such a lot of things at school, and that you are learning how to play, as well as how to do sums and how to spell. I’m so glad you are happy at school. You will have made a lot of friends by now. Did Michael like his football, and what did you buy for him for a surprise? I hope you have a nice time at his party.
Bye for now, love.
Lots of love from
Daddy

Tuesday
Glasgow
Darling,
The days are slipping past. Each day seems shorter than the last and we are slowly moving towards the halfway mark in the course, which is just as it should be. There’s not a great deal of news to tell you. Last night we had 9d worth of the gods at the Empire and I was surprised at the good seats you get, especially as they can be booked free of charge. The greater portion of the crowd up there were from the services, as you may well imagine. The show was not too hot. Carroll Levis and his Discoveries, most of whom were punk but we could not grumble for ninepence! I can see me refusing to take you anywhere but the cheapest seats when this war is over!
Dinner time
Many thanks indeed for your very long and newsy letter. It was good to have such a treat. Thanks again, darling. Although it was such a long letter, I don’t think there are many points in it for me to answer. One important thing is that question of leave. Charlie went home to Manchester and came back, all at a cost of half a crown, the price of a ticket he bought from a fellow here. I’ll tell you the full story some other time. Anyway, if I do decide to slip home for a weekend at any time, believe me, I’ll take no chances, but will have a good chance of getting away with it.
There was an interval while, amid great excitement, we examined our new suits. You will remember that we ordered them while we were at Aberdeen, on June 19 to be exact, and after chasing us round they have at last caught up with us, nearly three months after being measured for them!
I’m glad you had such a nice time at Nora’s, although I could quite understand what you say about the children being strange with each other. Trust Nora and Mrs Ashley for getting hold of pre-war supplies, and they’d be the first to moan about anyone else who did it! I’ve got beyond all hope of Ivor taking a strong stand ever.
I’m sorry you have had another do with Mother about the children’s party. It seems she will never learn.
What nice things you do say, darling. It’s so comforting to feel that you are conscious of my presence in the house so much. Don’t worry, love, your breasts will have that ache assuaged one of these fine days – or nights!
Now, darling, I must go. Those suits have upset things a lot today and it’s impossible to settle down to writing. I’ll have another try tonight.
All my love, pet. Always your
Arthur X

Thursday
Glasgow
Darling,
Pay day today, thank God! It’s always a popular day, as you may well imagine, and for the next few days some of the lads will be kings of creation – say until Sunday, but from then onwards there will be 10 days of grumbling, grousing and scrounging! They are a funny lot the way they will walk round for days on end without a penny in their pockets after spending 30/- or more in quite a few days. We have a couple of lads who came up from Devonport with us and they have sold so much of their gear that their kit-bags are now half empty and they are now swearing that somebody has swiped half of their stuff! You get all the extremes. Fellows like those two, for instance, will be bad neighbours of a fellow who hoards everything – money, tobacco, chocolate, soap etc and then the couple who have blown all their stuff complain that it isn’t right the way some fellows seem to have all the stuff. They even intimate the other bloke must have pinched the things he has!
Yesterday, Cliff, a fellow who used to be a Monotype operator in civvy street, heard that he is to get a move this week. The keyboard on these perforating machines is so like the board he has been used to that in the first two days he was doing 40 w.p.m. and now he is doing 60’s. He is not supposed to know but as soon as they can fix all the little details he is going to get posted to a station where they are waiting for a man. If they haven’t anyone already trained, but have to take a man from the middle of a course, it looks as if they are short of operators, in which case we can expect leave about as soon as we have finished the course, then back to depot and a quick draft.
The latest story is that the Navy have taken over Borstal as a signal school – I’ve heard that from several sources – and that instead of going to Chatham we will go there. I won’t mind that as I believe that from a purely scenic point of view it is far better than Chatham. Indeed, I’ve heard very good reports of Borstal, even in peacetime.
Dinner time and I’ve just had another good day for mail. A long letter from Hughie and a registered parcel from Mother containing plums in a wet condition, tomatoes all squashed and a packet of cigarettes soaked in the juice of both of them! Did she, by the way, come to the party after all? She says she did. Hughie’s letter was full of news of the office and he tells me that Harold Tudor, after having his medical, wangled himself a job as public relations officer to the British Council, which has headquarters at Harrogate, so he is automatically exempt! A typical ‘Echo’ wangle.
Well, love, that is about all the news. We had another exam today, the half way one and I got 18 words a minute, which, while not brilliant, is evidently considered reasonable enough. I can do better, I know, and I’m not greatly worried about it. The general opinion among the lads seems to be that the course will be extended a bit and I think it rather likely for there are about a dozen on my speed and below, and that is more than half the class. I should imagine that as they seem so anxious to get operators they will make more of pushing us all through the course.
I’ll try to write you a longer letter tomorrow, love. At the moment all I need say is that I’ll fill you to overflowing, alright, so don’t worry about that. I can’t guarantee any definite fluid quantity, but what I do want to make sure of is that our first union shall be perfect. Last leave, as at Aberdeen, the first one or two harvests of oats were, perhaps not spoiled, but rather marred by our overwhelming eagerness. This time let me make sure that you are really ready before John snuggles his way in, because once he does find himself in Mary’s embrace he is likely to lose all sense of balance. We really must try to achieve perfect timing for that occasion. Oh darling, I’m going all gooey at the thought of the splash John will make! My only hope is that, having anticipated that treat for so long, we are not disappointed. Now I must be off and try to concentrate on typing with that lovely dream in my head. What a hope!!
Bye for now, angel. I’ll write you tomorrow. All my love, angel.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Tuesday
Glasgow
Darling,
The days still seem to be flying past, and the impression is growing here that the course will have to be lengthened. Most of the lads are quite satisfied that it should be so and particularly the married fellows, who see in it a possibility of being home for Xmas. So far as I can see, however, it is impossible to look as far ahead as that.
There’s not a lot that is new. I didn’t go out until late last night as I had some dhobying to do. John and Charlie went straight to the pictures from school and discovered that ‘Fantasia’ is showing here so I’m going to do my best to see it later in the week. Tonight is the night of the dance run by the lads here so I think I’ll go along and have a look at it for a time, but I doubt if I will stay very long. I have lost a good deal of enthusiasm for dancing and I think the dance a few weeks ago was just a flash in the pan. The only reason I’m going is that I feel everyone ought to support their own affairs. Anyway, I’ll tell you what it’s like.
There’s no news from school, either. We are going on much the same except that we are now going back at 1.30 instead of 2.
How are things at home? Has Michael’s ankle improved? I thought afterwards about the clinic. Can the children be treated for things like that there? If so, you might save a few bob doctor’s fees, if you think it worthwhile.
What did Mother and Dot have to say? I hope there was no real dust-up. Anyway, these points are probably answered in the letter which I expect I will get tonight.
What have you been doing with yourself? And how does the body feel now that you have had your wants satisfied for a time? At least I hope they were satisfied! They seemed to be on the second occasion, anyway, for I counted about six ejaculations! It was good, sweetheart. We achieved the object of coinciding alright, didn’t we? Having rid myself of the first full enthusiasm on Saturday I’m sure that by Sunday night I could have kept you going for an hour and a half – or almost! Anway, it’s good to know that when I do come home again we will be able to leave John in Mary’s embrace as long as we like. Oh, angel, it does make all the difference to feel the warm unadorned embrace of Mary, and all I hope is that you were as fully satisfied as I was.
Now, sweetheart, it’s almost time to go to school so I’ll have to leave you. Take care of yourself and don’t forget your pills. If I were you I should store the solubles somewhere where they will be kept cool until I come home to warm them up!
Bye for now, love. My love to the children. All my love.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

P.S. Did you get the 10/-? I forgot to tell you yesterday that Dave gave me 10/- towards the fare and Dot gave me 4/- or 5/- as well, so I did fairly well, didn’t I?

Thursday
Glasgow
Dearest,
We are late today because dinner was late and there were big bugs in the way of officers crawling all over the building – as a matter of fact they are still crawling. I don’t know whether the dinner was put on to impress them, but they gave us soup, nice meat pie in huge dishes, and lashings of milk pudding. The food here is always good but there was just that extra touch that makes all the difference. Unfortunately we had rather strong kippers for breakfast and the smell still clung to the utensils! Still, it was good.
I’m sorry about the letter, love. What happened was that I went a different way back to school and did not pass a post box so I slipped in to the Lion Club where they have a letter box. That was a full two hours before the normal time of collection so it should have reached you, but I found in Aberdeen, I realise now, that you cannot rely on the people in these clubs clearing the boxes. I’m sorry that it should have happened on that day of all days, but you should have had two letters on Wednesday, just to make up for it.
Charlie has been very sceptical about his chances of getting “passionate” leave because of the baby and was loath to apply for it. I badgered him and he saw the Chief about it and is getting off from Friday noon until Monday morning. Charlie, knowing his oats and having had the tip from the Chief, put in as his grounds that he wanted to be home for the christening! That is funny if you know Charlie. Anyway, the main thing is that he has got it and he’s like a dog with two tails today, especially as his wife will have just got up by the time he gets home.
I didn’t tell you that I went to the dance on Tuesday night, did I? As you know, the affair was an official “do” from here and was held in the Astoria; a nice hall with quite a nice band. The charge was only 1/6 and for that you got two tickets, one being marked “guest” so I gave my ticket to the class leader to be given to some of the the people who have invited our lads to their dances. I was surprised to see many more women than fellows. Usually it is the other way round at affairs like that because several fellows, like myself, went without partners. Three fellows out of our crowd have their wives up here and brought them along. Altogether quite a nice night although you would have been amused to hear one of our Wrens tell me that I did quite well – “better than some of the young ones”. What my grey hairs have brought me to!
Well that’s about all the news, love. We heard that there were bombs on Liverpool on Monday or Tuesday. Have you had a raid? If so, when was it?
We didn’t go out last night so opened the jam for supper and Charlie and I made a good meal out of what is usually a dull affair. Very welcome, love, and very nice, too.
Now I must go, sweet. Take care of yourself. Hope you are feeling a bit more cheerful now. All my love, darling.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

Saturday
Glasgow
My darling,
Now the weekend is here there seems to be a bit of time to breathe, and perhaps time to get down to a rather longer letter which will, in all probability, be done in stages.
I have just been re-reading your very sweet letter which I didn’t get until I got back on Sunday night. That, too, has gone on one side to be saved and read and re-read in the future when I want to get a taste of the atmosphere of “the dear dead days” as you call them. I have to pick and choose your letters so carefully because of the little space I have for keeping anything in any real privacy. Thank you once again for that letter and, too, for the 10/- which I know must represent very real sacrifice by you and which, as you know now, I put to the best use in the world for it helped me to come back to you, if only for an all-too short time. But, oh sweet, it was so nice to hold you in my arms again. I meant to say so many things to you which somehow I never managed to say, although there were some things I did remember to tell you. Perhaps one day, or rather evening, we will sit down and do together what you did in your letter – go back over the milestones of the last eight years. One of the things I’m looking forward to is coming home for good and having an unbroken stretch of nights before us when we can sit down and natter together over all sorts of things – the little things which lie half-forgotten in our minds, the various milestones in our lives, the children, how they are progressing and our hopes and fears for them. And by then you will laugh at Michael’s fits of naughtiness and the way we have worried about him. Ah well, those days have to come but they are nice to look forward to. Let’s hope that they really will come and come more quickly than either of us think just now and, too, let’s hope they will bring with them a far greater sense of real security for ourselves and for the children than we have ever known yet. If only we can be sure of their future not containing a repetition of all this nonsense.
Now to answer some of the points in your letters which I don’t seem to have had time to deal with. By all means wear the stockings. There’s no point in leaving them. It’s my fault, not yours, that they were never sent. If you think they are worth all that much, why not (a) save them for gala occasions when I can appreciate your silken calf and thigh, or (b) do a deal with someone and get two pairs of more serviceable stockings of your own size? Anyway, make use of them. Don’t just leave them there.
Now there is one thing I have not said in my letters and a thing which I meant to say in my first letter after coming back. That is how much I appreciated the fact that you had not cried after I had gone. I know, without conceit, that it hurts you for me to have to leave you, but the thought of you in tears upsets me beyond words and I’m so glad to think you are gradually hardening your heart, as I am mine, to these inevitable separations. For the first couple of days at Skegness I went miserable through and through when I thought of how hardly you were taking our separation. That is not a censure, love, but no man likes to think of his wife all miserable at home while he is caught up in all the clanging whirl of the transformations into a “number in line”. As you know, I wouldn’t expect you to jump with joy at the idea of being rid of me for some weeks or months, but no one can ever escape the feeling of being personally responsible for the misery of their women folk. You were marvellous, love, and I felt proud of you, especially when I came back the second time and caught you on the hop. I had the wild idea of carrying you off to bed and slipping a quick one across you, but I thought that would be anti-climax and I’m more than glad now that I didn’t for it would have spoiled a marvellous day. Just wait till I get that 7 days. I’m not changing into civvies and catching cold this time – or ever again! What a pity, angel, that you did not stay awake all night last Saturday. If you had wakened me again about 4 or 5 my quiver might have been full again!
Rees seems to have charged you fairly reasonably, although if you work it out it comes to nearly 5/- a visit. Which isn’t bad going when all is said and done. Medicine you can discount. The whole eight bottles wouldn’t cost 1/- and that is on doctors’ own arguments at a private meeting I was once at in Arthur Jones’s office! I hope your claim is granted. Let me know how you go on.
Yes, I know about Morris [??] going. Dave told me on the way down and added that he had – or was going to, I’m not sure which – applied for the house. With all due respects, I hope he doesn’t get it! Anyway, if Mother does cut up rough, there’s an answer ready made. If Dave gets it, he was in first. If he doesn’t, even he has no influence. It’s in the bag!
Glad to hear of all your discoveries in the drawers. And talking of drawers, I’ve got an order in with one of the lads to try to get some shorts for me. If I get them I’ll send them on for you and you can sew them up to keep the draught out!
It’s now Sunday morning and I have been unfaithful to the Methodist J.C. by going and worshipping(!) the C. of E. J.C. because that gives me more leisure. Isn’t it nonsense? And I have been using that leisure in a very satisfactory way. I have been reading a very delightful letter you wrote me – the last I ever got from you at Skegness. How long ago that seems, my love. But what a lovely letter that was and I can remember now, oh so clearly, how I revelled in that letter. In it you recalled the days at the ‘B.T.’ and how formal we were to each other in the first days. I was never really conscious of an air of formality, for my first memories of that time concern the way Ronnie and Norman and Philip used to pull your leg about being Freddie’s lady now; and then there were also life-like imitations of Pluto! Remember? And remember the way we used to curse you for being a lazy beggar and not helping with making the tea? Even the mention of tea at the ‘B.T.’ brings back a lot of memories: you fastened in with Freddie, Arthur Smith always coming in in the middle of tea, the inevitable rolls with Heinz sandwich spread and the particular kind of meat pie I used to have every week. There was, too, the peculiar spirit smell from the Primus under the table. That is one side of life at the ‘B.T.’ which has its own particular delights, but best of all I like the other side – the memories of the later days and nights. Particularly the nights when perhaps I was working late after the Council and you would come in and we would have a few minutes together. Or the Thursday nights when everyone but Freddie had gone and with him safely(?) on one side of the partition we would be on the other, with Mary welcoming John for an all-too brief meeting! I can even now feel the touch of the lace on the edge of those French knickers so ruthlessly pushed aside. And, as you said recently, what a row if you wanted to wear anything other than French knickers! There were, too, the nights when, after I had left or been thrown out of the ‘B.T.’, I used to prowl from dance to dance looking for you. This period, of course, includes the famous night to which you have referred. The night I came up to that Litherland dance and carried you off from Norman Jones. Wasn’t that the night that we went to Joe Benson’s after hours?
You know, I have never been conscious of being bitter towards you, even in those days of deep disappointment. You were, even then, my one comfort and I’m sorry if you thought I was treating you as filling a daily physical need. I wonder what would have happened to me if you had gone through with your intention of giving me up. That would have been the last straw just at that time but, jolt that it would have been, I doubt if you would have been allowed to get away with it. I would have pestered the life out of you, even if I had had to forget my dignity so far as to make love to you! Oh, sweetheart, just think what might have happened that night if I hadn’t had the sense to talk sensibly to you. Never mind, I did do the right thing, even not knowing how close to the brink I was. I’m sorry I caused you so much unhappiness then, but I have never wilfully hurt you, have I? Even when you were really miserable at Alexandra Road, I never realised how unhappy you were or I would have done something about it, as you know.
Oh, angel, I do love you, and even to think of you having been unhappy in the past hurts me. Perhaps because of that time and our present period of separation we will be able to settle down to years of smug “sweet con” when this war is over. It won’t be my fault if we cannot.
Now, precious, much as I love you, I will have to leave you to write to that confounded child of yours! Tell Wendy why there is only one letter. I think it would be unwise to write telling Michael off and, at the same time, to write a chatty letter to Wendy. The distinction would be too sharp-drawn. I don’t think I will suggest it to Michael, but you can if you like, that if he really means to mend his ways he can write and tell me so.
So the little red box is in the right-hand side of the middle drawer? OK, I’ll bet I can put my hand right on it when the time comes, as come it will, and so will I! Wow! And will I make your muscles stiff again? Just you wait, young woman. I hope, by the way, that the solubles did sol! Let me know if vapours are late, won’t you? I’ll be looking a bit anxiously for that V sign after that experiment. Some of the married men, by the way, swear on the reliability of Rendells, so we might try them next time if I can get them. Still, we have enough in hand for the moment.
Now I really must leave you, pet. Bye for now. All my love, angel, and take care of yourself. I do love you so much and am full of impatience now for the end of October.
All my love, sweetheart.
Ever your own,
Arthur X

P.S. I have finished Michael’s homily. Read it first and see if you think it is the right line to take. If there are any points you want to interpolate, do so by all means. I only hope it is simple enough for him to follow. Let me know what his reactions are and, if you get a chance of reading it to him without an audience in the form of Wendy, so much the better. I don’t like the idea of a third party being present at a telling off. It might ruin the whole atmosphere.

Monday
Glasgow
Dearest,
I’m actually starting this letter on Monday night as I’m on duty watch, but I won’t spend too long on it if you don’t mind because I have done a fair amount of writing already tonight, to Dot and Frank Patterson, and I have to be up at one o’clock to do my fire-watching.
I had a letter from Frank today and we are hoping that we may see each other on Saturday. It will be worth my while to go over because I’ll probably touch for some tobacco. Frank tells me that Don Thompson, whom you will possibly remember as one of the fellows in the Gilcomston crowd, has touched for a tels job at Liverpool! What’s more, his home is at Wallasey. Lucky beggar. I wonder if he will look you up? Another news item from Gilcomston is that Flo, mother of the fatherless child, has thrown the fireman over and married a sailor. She’s a fast worker and if I know Flo this lad will have a fair amount of money.
This week looks like being booked up. On Tuesday (that’s tonight) we are going to another free dance and on Thursday I’m going to see Alex Brown. On Friday I’m on duty and on Saturday I’m going to Ayr. Which only leaves Wednesday open. With a programme like that the week is as good as over, so I have only four weeks to go! I have looked up the calendar, by the way, and if this is only a 12-week course we should be away about Oct 24.
I had an hour on the perforating machine on Monday and it went fairly well, despite the fact that the machine to which I have been allocated is about the worst in the room and half of the keys stick down when you hit them. With a few weeks on that there should be a real improvement. You can certainly get a better rhythm on them than on the typewriter.
Love, my eyes are closing. Night night, pet. I love you still.

Tuesday
By now Michael should have had my letter and I’m looking forward to hearing what his reaction was. I’m hoping it will have some effect on him. How did he last the week out on his punishment of being kept in for the week? And how is his foot now? I hope it is showing some improvement. If there is any hope of getting your doctor’s bills over £2 paid, tip Rees off to save them until they reach decent proportions!
I have just had your letter. Many thanks, love. I’ll miss your daily letter if we do go any distance more than anything else. It’s good to hear that you have had another break at Limedale, but I’m not surprised to hear of the nark between Harold and May. There is nothing unusual in him not speaking to people in the house though, is there, for he is fairly taciturn at the best of times. Mind you, I’m no champion of May. As I told you before, the old hen owes me letters and doesn’t write them. To hell with mothers-in-law like that. And how long is it since she bought me a pint? Years and years! Now, go on, tell your mother that if you dare and I’ll shag you to death when I come home for your pains. That’s a promise, love, whether you tell her or not! Oh boy! Will I shag you! And talking of that, I’m surprised to hear that Maisie and Dick are so keen on having a youngster.
The habit of swallowing almost any odd item from a pint to a button or a ha’penny seems to run in the Johnson family, doesn’t it? Hope he parts with it without any trouble. And the word trouble reminds me. Careful how you go on your raiding expeditions! I’d hate to have to bail you out – although it would make a good excuse for a weekend leave.
I am sure you are wrong about the children never having seen a rainbow because – and I’m not usually very good on the memory stunt – I distinctly remember showing them one from the top of the bus when we were passing the gun-site one day. They have also seen them in the garden.
Well, sweet, I’m off to school again. By the time you get this we will be half way through the eighth week! Nice work, for it means we are nearer to seeing each other again. Oh darling, I do love you so much that I can hardly wait. You will get no rest when I come home for I’ll haunt you wherever you go in the house and my hands will never leave you. They will be all over your breasts and thighs and bottom all day so that you won’t even get a chance to wash the dishes.
Darling, midday comas are hopeless. Bye, my sweet. I love you terribly so look after yourself for me.
All my love, sweetheart.
Always your own,
Arthur X

Sunday
Glasgow
Dearest,
This is being written in the home of one of Charlie’s aunts who, after giving us tea, has gone out, leaving us in charge of the house! We have washed up and have set the table for supper. Charlie and Jack have had baths, and I’m hoping the water will last out for me. You’ve got to admit that when we start things we do them well.
I didn’t get a chance to write any of this letter yesterday because I went straight from school to Ayr. Yes, I did make it at long last and met Don Gibson and Frank Patterson, both of whom send their best wishes to you, and several other fellows from Aberdeen including one of the fellows who was staying with Mrs Smith – Allan, the very quiet fellow. He’s a nice boy. There were about six of us together and we had a meal at one of the few service canteens then had a wander round the place until the pubs opened at 5 o’clock and stayed there until they closed at 8! However, this suited me down to the ground as I had to catch a train at 8.30 or wait until midnight. The whole day – meal, fare and beer – cost about 10/-. Of that amount I should have spent about 3/- or 4/- had I stayed in Glasgow and as I got some stuff from the lads for which they wouldn’t take a penny, I consider I got good value for my money. Then when I got back I found your letter waiting for me – the end of a perfect day. I also had a letter and 100 Capstans from Fred Stephens! So I sold most of them at canteen prices, making 6/9 on that deal, which meant I finished up about level on the day. Wasn’t it decent of Fred?
I’m sorry I haven’t brought your letter with me so if there are any points in it which I should have answered, will you mind if I leave them until tomorrow because I’ll post this at the G.P.O. on the way home. Oh, sweetheart, there’s only another month now. We will probably have a good idea as to what is going to happen about this course by the end of the week because that will give them time to have received some acknowledgment from the Admiralty on the progress reports which were sent up to them this weekend. In the tape-reading tests, at which we are expected to reach 20 w.p.m., I got to 19 on plain language and 20 on code and cypher, so that side of the business looks OK. I think I told you I got 23 w.p.m. on the perforator. I think that I will be able to push that up to 30 by the end of the course. At least, that is what I’m hoping to do and I think I will be able to do it for it is largely a matter of confidence and that is coming slowly. I was telling the lads at Ayr what a cushy job it is and Don Gibson is greatly intrigued. He is going to try to transfer to it but I doubt if they will let him now that he has gone so far and especially as he is apparently doing well at it.
Well, sweetheart, there’s not a great deal of news. We have had a quiet day today. Church, a stroll for a cup of coffee at one of the canteens, back for dinner and then out for a short walk through the park on our way here. We are going to see ‘Maid Of The Mountains’ tomorrow night from the 1/6 gods of the Royal Theatre, but we are very annoyed because the tels in our place have all got tomorrow off as it is a Glasgow holiday, while we have to go to school because the Post Office doesn’t recognise local holidays! Isn’t it daft that, although they are off school from Saturday noon until Thursday morning, they have not got a weekend leave and travelling warrant? Makes me sick because the lads at Ayr get the long weekend and, what is more, are allowed to fly home if there are service planes going near their homes! What a chance.
Well, angel girl, I’m just going to help to get our own supper ready! Be a good girl for the next few weeks and do your best to contrive vapours so that they don’t interfere with leave, or there will be murder in the house, after which I’ll go and sleep with Mrs Reid. She should be fairly safe! Precious, I still love you, in case you should doubt it.
All my love, darling, and take care of yourself for me. Night night, pet, until tomorrow.
Always your own,
Arthur X

Tuesday
Glasgow
My darling,
Now we are back to normal again and I have a sneaking idea that the tels yesterday would sooner have been at school, for they discovered that their day off meant they had to do ordinary Sunday duties which, for some of them, meant doing 3 hours sentry. Not much of a holiday! Seeing that they were giving a holiday I don’t see why they couldn’t have given the lads a proper weekend leave from Friday night to Monday night. They weren’t at school on Saturday anyway, so they might as well have given them the travel vouchers and made a proper job of it. As it rained almost all of yesterday it made no real break, for most of the lads were fastened indoors until evening.
As a change we went to see ‘Maid Of The Mountains’, the pleasure of much of the first act being ruined by people coming in late. That meant that it was almost the end of the first act before there was anything like silence in the theatre. Sonnie Hale was in the right part with a very vivacious girl named Marjorie Sandford and another good part was taken by Davy Burnaby. Altogether a good show if you like that kind of thing. While I was not thrilled to bits, it passed a very pleasant evening.
Many thanks for your letter, love. By the same post I got a p.c. from Eric who is spending a few days in the Isle of Man on business. Now to answer your letter. I am glad about Thursday’s whist drive and, as you say, it will make a very pleasant change for you. What a good way of raising a present.
So the “invasion” was a flop? I’m not surprised because from what I can see the Home Guard is used as a dodge hole by a big number of people while the sincere ones don’t seem to be very well trained. In modern warfare drilling in sheds is no good. They need really hard training out in the open in all kinds of weather and I doubt very much if they get it. An occasional hour or so on a Sunday morning, always finishing in time to get into the pubs, seems to be the general routine. As you know, I’ve always argued that we should be rigidly trained in the use of arms. In this war there is no such thing as non-combatant branches of the forces. I have been in uniform about nine months and never fired a rifle! The mere fact that I prefer things as they are is neither here nor there.
I’m sorry to hear Michael’s foot has let him down again. If it doesn’t improve soon, why not take him to the clinic or the hospital if it looks like being a big job. It will save you a good deal of money, possibly. Michael’s feet have never been good and if there is any corrective treatment this is the time to get it done, before he starts school. Let me know what you think, love, and get something done as soon as you can, will you? If there is any question of hospital treatment, I’ll make an inquiry at the office because I may be in benefit in our hospital scheme still! But I think that under that stunt we have to pay the first £5 ourselves. It may never get to that stage, of course, but I’m just anticipating possible developments. The children would be disappointed about the invasion but it is as well that you kept them close to the house for you can never tell what is going to happen on these stunts. In any case they are just a damn nuisance to people who are anxious to see they are not hurt.
Yes, I did know the Barrie story. He is not the only good man to be turned down by the ‘D.P.’ and the ‘Echo’. I think it was Tom Webster who applied for a job at our place just after the last war but he wanted 10/- a week more than our people would give!
Now, about this business of sweating on the top line that this course will only last 12 weeks! I know how you feel but we learned our lesson at Aberdeen, didn’t we? I thought we decided then never to bank on anything. Even at the last minute we might get an extension here and I am fighting strongly against this rising elation at the approach of the end of the course. I’m trying to tell myself that we have another three MONTHS to go yet as I feel that is by far the best way. Everyone here is hoping that there will be no extension now for they are beginning to crack the whip a bit and the instructors are beginning to take themselves seriously!
Anyway, let’s hope there’s no change now. I’m getting a bit browned off.
Sweetheart, I must love you. Take care of yourself and store your love up for me until I come home again when I’ll do all the things I have promised – and some more! Keep the little red box cool. We don’t want them spoiled by getting warm until I decide the time has come to warm them up! And then I’ll see they are properly warmed up. Angel, I do adore you and John does, too, as he is demonstrating just now! It’s such a lovely feeling when John stirs at the thought of you. Darling, I must go. This is no time for comas. Bye for now, angel. All my love to you.
Ever your own,
Arthur X